The button at the top of WordPress’s dashboard is always so commanding. “Write”, it says. Demands. Usually, I avoid it by having a goodly stash of pre-written works that I paste into the text box, format, and schedule before pretending I won’t have to look at them ever again but all things must come to an end and here I am having run out of pre-written musings. I think I did pretty well, skating by on somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 original works for the better part of two months.
The trouble is that now I have to find that misty place full of doggindales, sit there in the pine barrens and and write what I can see and hear and bring it all back to the world outside. It’s less that it’s a mysterious place and more a frightening one. Who knows whats out there in the dim?